


The Moon and The Sun

by EmberWrites



Category: The Goldfinch (2019), The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: Coming of Age, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberWrites/pseuds/EmberWrites
Summary: Theodore Decker’s life changed after his mother died in a tragic art gallery bombing which led to a series of worse events for him. She seemed to have been all that had grounded him to a more social, happy life. After living sometime with his school friend’s family, he was dragged from New York to Las Vegas, Nevada. Now, Theo has moved in with his dad and his girlfriend that’s nothing his mother. He felt lonely like time was moving forward without him until he met one named Boris. A strange kid really. Theo struggles with balancing the loss of his mother, thinking back on his childhood and what love is. Something he may never learn the answer to
Relationships: Kotku/Boris Pavlikovsky, Theodore Decker/Boris Pavlikovsky
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

I sat on the couch at my father’s house, watching a movie I really wasn’t interested in. In fact I wasn’t even watching it anymore. I was looking outside at the moon. 

The full moon which illuminated everything in the room in a dreamlike glow since the lights were off. I found it strange how the moon was always associated with the dark given how brightly it shined. Sure the sun was bright, but it had a whole sky of light to back it up. All the moon had was stars. 

“You’re missing the best part Potter,” Boris stopped his sentence. “What are you looking at?” He got up from his seat and threw the bottle he was holding aside and went over to the window. He tapped the glass. 

“Heh.” He laughed.

“What?” I asked not really in the mood for one of his strange breathy laughing fits over something that made no sense. Just the other week, he’d tried to snort a dandelion which was pretty amusing besides the fact we were high and we ended up getting into a fight based on whether or not a dandelion was a drug. 

“You have strange fascination with moon.” He observed shaking his head in amusement. Boris’ face shone a soft blue in the light from the window as his eyes gazed out the window seeming to reflect the stars themselves. 

I turned off the TV and walked over to where Boris was standing the only sound now being the patter of my feet. I stopped next to him and gazed at the moon as it felt as if it were staring right back at me. 

The silence seemed to fill the room in a welcomed moment of peace.   
A moment of peace that was such a strange experience as if everything in the world had just stopped and it was just Boris, the moon, and I.   
Perhaps in some ways, I was like the moon, trying my best to shine in the darkness that seemed to be consuming me from all sides, and everyone else were the stars around me. 

Except Boris, I remember the name he said he was given. Badr al-Dine. He was the sun, bringing unmatched light to the darkness, having no stars to guide him.   
I couldn’t understand how someone so aimless seemed to be more guided than me who had people pushing and pulling me every direction unless of course that’s why.   
Maybe the search for aimless wanderers leads to being able to guide yourself. 

Eventually, we sat down and stared at the moon until suddenly, I realized my eyes had just opened and it was bright out. But what was my head propped up against? It was very warm… very comforting. 

“Oh…” I moved away in surprise. I had in fact fallen asleep, on Boris’ shoulder. It was really a small shoulder, not very broad and yet it was very comforting like a soft pillow or an arm rest. 

“Well, I for one, would like something to eat. You?” He asked getting up already going about his business.   
I blinked at him.   
“Something wrong Potter?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at my expression. 

“Uhh. No.” I wouldn’t point it out obviously. Based on how Boris acted around me I supposed it was some forgien thing for that to be normal behavior between two guys.


	2. Floating...falling.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo and Boris continue their stealing adventures before Theo ends up almost drowning in the pool.

“Have you ever been caught before?” I asked stuffing a bag of beef jerky in my jacket.  
He tossed a rogue strand of hair out of his eye. “Once, I was at the market. I had stuffed lots in my backpack because I didn’t have other choice. So, backpack becomes too full, backpack spills all over market floor in front of worker. But she looks at me, puts items back in backpack, and lets me off with warning.” 

“Wow. You really got lucky.” I nodded adjusting my glasses which had started sliding down the bridge of my nose. 

“Need a wand to fix problem?” He joked pointing to my glasses.  
I used my middle finger to push them up the bridge of my nose and he burst into breathy laughter. “Very funny Potter, fuck you too.” He smirked. 

We sat outside and snacked on the items we took. “This was so expensive.” I joked biting into a Hawaiian roll. 

“It says kings.” Boris pointed to the package. I looked down at the dirt beneath my feet, the sun's heat beating down on us. 

“You know I bet we are the only ones who wear sweaters in Nevada.” 

“Is the perfect weather. Wear sweater and your arms can’t get sunburned.” He waved around his arms frantically, to make his point. 

I looked over at Boris his features pale and exposed under the sunlight. His thick eyebrows creased into a furrow due to the fact the sun was shining on him and he didn’t like it. 

I pulled out his umbrella and propped it open for him. “No sun.” I smiled. 

“I can’t believe you took the sandwich right in front of her! We could’ve been caught!” Boris laughed, smacking me in the head playfully, which made me lose my balance and fall into my pool with a splash.

I felt the water come from all sides around me, meeting the familiar feeling of drowning. I thrashed against the water I had unexpectedly met, trying to reach the surface but kept flashing back to the feeling in the museum. Seeing the dead bodies, the woman without her head… the blood, the dry scratchy feeling in my throat. The feeling of being lost and trying to find my mother…. only to find…. to find…

“Potter!”  
I blinked awake seeing a blurry Boris over me. My cheek burned. I was pretty sure he’d just slapped me.  
“You weren’t waking up, I had to pull you out of the water! Now I’m all wet!” He complained trying to get the water out of his hair which in turn sprayed me. 

I turned over and coughed water onto the cement. “T-thanks.” I sputtered. 

Boris put on my glasses, “Bah!” He exclaimed. “You are blind!” 

“I know…” I groaned reaching for the glasses and putting them back on. The ever present feeling of death seemed to put a strange shadow over the rest of the day. Like I was floating watching my body move around and say things. Or maybe that was just the drugs...


	3. Why Do Dogs Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theo makes Boris watch old yeller and Larry does what Larry does

“What is point of movie?” Boris waved his scrawny hand dismissively. “They have dog, dog must be killed.” He was entirely unamused. “I bet they made this so people would cry and make big fuss over it.” 

I watched him wipe a tear away I pretended I hadn’t noticed. I had decided to make him watch Old Yeller. I wasn’t sure what he would think but he of course brought it to make some statement about society. 

“Maybe our childhood is represented by the dog.” I proposed though I hadn’t been paying attention. My mind was fogged with the memory of watching it with my mother. Her pale blue eyes filling up with tears as she held tightly to my arm. 

“Potter!” Boris smacked me in the head with a pillow. “I was talking to you.” He sighed. “My entire speech was wasted.”

Then to my dismay, Larry my dad walked into the room with his usual ridiculous strut, “Old Yeller huh? I never really got why people get so sad over it.” He admitted with a shrug counting some change in his wallet. “The dog had rabies what else were they supposed to do. You know there was a remake in the works and they were gonna cast me, I turned it down. Lucky me it was never made.”

I couldn’t tell if he had made that up or if that was real. Either way, Boris went with it, “Interesting. What would your take have been if you could write it?” He asked. 

They continued in a conversation that went right over my head, Popper hopped on the couch and sat in my lap. I began to pet him when I felt something wet and hot in my lap. 

“Fuck!” I leapt up and Popper bounded away from the scene of the crime.

“Hah! Popchik pissed on you!” Boris burst into breathy laughter. 

“Clean that up. I don’t want that staining, Xandra would have a fit.” Larry said before walking out of the room. 

Boris continued his laughter not helping me but rolling around with Popchik on the carpet, “What a good boy.” He let the small Maltese crawl all over him. 

I could only remember a few times as a child asking my mother for a dog. She had wanted one too, but neither of us would’ve been at home enough to take care of it.   
Home.   
That apartment had never really felt like home. Here didn’t either. I thought of home and what it meant to me. Perhaps the Barbours but I felt one place associated with the word. Hobie’s shop, that was home.

Perhaps Old Yeller felt at home once before the dog had to be killed. And perhaps old yeller represents our fleeting childhood which is taken from us as a necessity to someone else’s life. That innocence which is so valuable. Lost.


End file.
